


he smells like home.

by orphan_account



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Drabble, Jason is just thinking and he's in love, M/M, Snuggling, Very innocent and sweet, boys cuddling, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 12:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12080757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: he didn't realize he had a heart until it belonged to jughead.





	he smells like home.

**Author's Note:**

> another dumb drabble and i love these gays

If Jason could’ve asked to have been born with any other name; he would’ve done it. Sure, being a Blossom may be nice - but a flower by any other name would smell as sweet. And the more he considered that thought, he wondered if the Blossom name had any sweetness to it? He knew his father wasn’t sweet - far from. There were secrets that the family was keeping, and Jason had yet to find out what, but with the allusions that kept cropping up, he figured he’d be finding out sooner or later, and god, he hoped it wasn’t something like he conjured up in his nightmares. That wouldn’t smell sweet. 

What did was Jughead’s hair, tickling the tip of his nose. Jason’s eyes were shut, and his thoughts elsewhere, but Jughead was very much present in his embrace. The dark haired boy was asleep - evident by the steady rise and fall of his chest against Jason’s. He was warm (of course he was, he had taken all the blankets) and serving to keep Jason relaxed; even if his thoughts weren’t the calmest. 

It wasn’t until Jason realized that he had fallen in love that he realized he had never experienced the feeling of home. Thornhill wasn’t home; it was a roof over his head, the place where his family was, where his stuff was, the place where he grew up and it was familiar… But home was apparently where the heart is, and his heart was never there. In fact, he had forgotten he even possessed such a thing until it belonged to Jughead. It belonged to his warm embraces, to his small smiles, to his careful words, to his poetic love of cinema, to his stupid hat, to his worn-down clothes, to his sarcastic remarks, to his professed love of burgers, to the clacking of his keyboard keys, to the way his hair smells when he’s asleep against Jason’s chest, in the back of his pick-up truck with only the endless sky overhead. 

Jason realizes where his home is, and it’s in the scent of his boyfriends hair.


End file.
